


malware

by heleus



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor (Detroit: Become Human) is In Denial About Deviancy, Connor is a Mess (Detroit: Become Human), Gen, Hank Anderson & Connor Friendship, Hugs, Protective Hank Anderson, Rewrite, Stratford Tower (Detroit: Become Human), Traumatized Connor (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:34:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25253908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heleus/pseuds/heleus
Summary: Acutely aware of his lack of a definitive answer, Connor stills himself as his eyes dart between the lieutenant and the body of the deviant. "I'm okay..."He thinks that he is saying it more to reassure himself rather than Lieutenant Anderson.(Or: Following the events atop Stratford Tower, Connor becomes aware of the fact that something is very, very wrong.)
Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor
Comments: 11
Kudos: 240





	malware

**Author's Note:**

> hey hey hey!!!
> 
> this may seem familiar! i posted this originally under the title "error code" back in december 2018. it was actually pretty well received but i feel like i've evolved as a writer since then so i took it down and decided to rewrite/edit it!! i hope it's still as enjoyable as it once was.
> 
> i don't normally take down fics, but i struggle a lot with anxiety among other things and this one in particular has been nagging at me to rewrite and post it, especially now that i've actually played dbh multiple times (i have platinum on it).
> 
> i edited/reworded the first part of it and then entirely rewrote the second part! (except i did keep my ending line, because i have a special affinity for it.)
> 
> if you were one of the people who previously read it and want to let me know, feel free to comment your opinion!! <3
> 
> editing it has been quite cathartic, just acknowledging my own improvement as a writer and still being able to share this with you all again.

Thirium soaks through the fabric of Connor's CyberLife-issued jacket, the blue tones a sharp contrast to the blacks and greys. Snow peppers their hair and their outfits as it falls from the sky, a flurry of cold, white flakes that Connor, if he possessed the ability to express emotion or thought, would've considered peaceful if not for the given situation. The temperature of the metal against their backs is dangerously freezing; not that he can feel it in the traditional sense, and his eyes meet Hank's for a brief second as he considers the effect this temperature might have on the lieutenant's body.

"You have to stop them," Connor urges over the gunfire, directing his attention towards Hank, "If they destroy it, we won't learn anything!"

Hank, his chest heaving, regards Connor incredulously, lips parted both with disbelief and sharp intakes of breath. "We can't save it, it's too late!" the lieutenant argues as Connor turns his head back over his shoulder. "We'll just get ourselves killed!"

This may be an issue for Hank, Connor thinks, considering the fact that the probability of Hank's survival should the situation not be diffused is already dangerously low. However, he is an android, and though he's been successful in avoiding his own destruction thus far, he acknowledges and recognizes the fact that CyberLife can simply send out another RK800 model should he become compromised.

He turns his head back to Hank, computing various scenarios and their outcomes before he takes to his feet, scrambling out from behind the frozen metal carpeted with thirium and frost.

The lieutenant's hand brushes against the tail's end of Connor's coat in a futile attempt to keep him in place as he pushes forward. His internal workings are already plotting the trajectory of three bullets, dictating their projected paths with bright red lines that contrast heavily against the muted blues and greys of his programming. Connor dodges each of the bullets successfully, vaulting himself over another metal unit before pressing the deviant against the frigid steel wall behind them. The deviant's LED is rapidly flashing a dangerous, angry red as Connor wills the synthetic skin of his right hand to recede, exposing the thick, white plastic that lingered beneath. 

As he probes the deviant's memory, an unfamiliar scene paints itself before his eyes.

Through the mess of static and corrupted audio, Connor is able to make out a neatly printed, white word; **JERICHO** , its letters spread out across a large sheet of blue, rusted metal. The visual pans like a camera, exposing the entirety of the word.

Connor jerks upon processing the firing of a handgun; the visuals he had been studying quickly dissipate, and he is left standing in place, his eyes weary and wide. The deviant had shot itself in the head, and Connor had experienced _everything_ ; every simulation of fear, every emulated feeling of despair and hopelessness.

A bleak and expansive void has trapped Connor within itself; he is simultaneously everywhere and nowhere.

His eyes remain locked with ~~his~~ its body, his optics taking in too much detail, the way the thirium is covering its jaw, chin, neck, and collarbone. Error messages obstruct his vision: _Software instability detected. Please contact CyberLife for maintenance._

"Connor. Connor, you alright? Connor!"

Hank appears within his field of vision, his facial features expressing a variety of emotions that he identifies as concern, worry, and the smallest fraction of fear. Connor cannot bring himself to make eye contact with the lieutenant; his expression remains glassy and distant as he attempts to process the events that had just occurred. It takes the briefest of moments for him to realize the lieutenant is expecting an answer, and even then, Connor is unable to properly articulate his thoughts.

"Okay..." he whispers, though it falls through his lips as something more akin to a whimper, mirroring the uncertainty that he is experiencing.

"Are you hurt?" Hank questions adamantly, his voice vaguely defensive.

Acutely aware of his lack of a definitive answer, Connor stills himself as his eyes dart between the lieutenant and the body of the deviant. "I'm okay..."

He thinks that he is saying it more to reassure himself rather than Lieutenant Anderson.

"Jesus..." The lieutenant pulls away from him, then, "You scared the shit outta me."

Connor rubs his lips against each other, still not raising his gaze from the ground, though he makes an effort to divert it from the ~~corpse~~ body. He has nothing to say in response, despite his normal composure and ability to integrate into a variety of social and emotional situations. His LED is a vibrant, irritated red.

"For fuck's sake, I told you not to move!" Hank is turning back around to face Connor now, "Why do you never do what I say?"

Once more, Connor is left without a response. He is not accustomed to this; his programming almost always provided him with an optimal response to most social scenarios, but now he is left standing without guidance. The amount of uncertainty playing havoc within himself is enough to render him motionless. ~~Something is wrong.~~

"I was connected to its memory," he says, his voice still unsettled, but not emotional (because androids do not experience emotion). "When it fired, I... I felt it die. Like I was dying."

Hank's expression becomes unreadable, inflicting the smallest amount of ~~panic~~ ~~fear~~ ~~uneasiness~~ worry into Connor. The lieutenant's face seems intrigued and concerned while remaining guarded, and it takes a moment for Connor to gather himself, because _oh god —_ he saw that android die, ~~felt~~ experienced it die, underwent every ~~emotion~~ emulation of the situation.

He finally makes eye contact with the lieutenant, his LED still a violent red as he speaks again, his voice so insignificant and small: "I was scared..."

~~Something is very, very wrong.~~

Hank shifts his weight, his expression unchanged as he regards Connor with curiosity.

"I saw something," Connor says, desperate to shift the subject away from himself. "In its memory. A word, painted on a piece of rusty metal." He falters, closes his eyes against the repetition of the memory, before slowly reopening them. "Jericho."

◯ ◯ ◯

A few hours later, they find themselves within Hank's car, making their way to Elijah Kamski's place of residence. Kamski is the former CEO of CyberLife, and the man behind the invention of androids; that fact makes Connor relatively apprehensive as he gazes out of the passenger window. His LED has calmed to a slow-spinning, uneasy yellow.

"Lieutenant...?" Connor finally breaks the tense, uncomfortable silence, his voice lacking its usual vibrancy and determination.

Hank says nothing, though his eyes meet Connor's momentarily before they refocus upon the road. His silence invites Connor to continue speaking.

Connor pauses, rubs the cuff of his pants between his forefinger and his thumb to give his nervous programming a distraction. "I... I realize that this may come as a hindrance to our investigation, but I do believe my software has been... compromised."

_Software instability detected. Self-diagnosis recommended._

The lieutenant lets his eyes dart between Connor and the road for a few moments before he comes to the decision to speak, regarding Connor with reservation. "Compromised? Do you mean you're a deviant?"

"No!" Connor protests, his knees jerking against his chin as his LED flashes a burning red color before returning to its former yellowness. "No, I... I think I am still processing what occurred upon Stratford Tower, that's all."

"You mean what happened with the deviant?" Hank inquires curiously, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. "Connor—"

Connor inhales a large breath of air despite not needing to, and settles his chin atop his knees once more. "I understand if you wish to replace me, lieutenant. CyberLife can upload my memory into another RK800 android; it will almost be like nothing changed."

Though the idea ~~scares~~ ~~terrifies~~ concerns Connor, he understands and accepts the importance of their investigation in comparison to his own ~~feelings~~ individuality.

"Almost?"

Connor hums diffidently, clutching the fabric of his pants in a fist. "They'll remove any memories that they deem unnecessary to the investigation and analyze this version of me to find out why I failed."

He is ~~fearful~~ skeptical about the idea of returning to the emptiness that he had experienced before.

There is a beat of silence that leaves Connor reeling, his reflection displaying the redness of his LED as he awaits the lieutenant's response. He is not sure what he hopes to hear. He doesn't ~~want~~ wish to be replaced; he ~~doesn't want to die~~ doesn't think that the investigation would progress any further if he were to be replaced now.

Connor does not want to ~~die~~ be shut down. ~~~~

"I'm not going to replace you, Connor," Hank speaks with finality, causing Connor to lift his head and turn his gaze in the lieutenant's direction. "You haven't failed your mission, if that's what you're so worried about."

Connor's LED has not calmed, still flickering a bright and insidious red as he struggles to rationalize the lieutenant's decision. "Why? I felt... scared, I— I _felt_ something, lieutenant. Androids aren't supposed to feel."

He ~~does~~ doesn't feel emotions, only their emulations; he didn't feel fear, he only experienced the deviant's fear. Had the deviant felt anything? Had _he_?

"That's only a problem if you make it a problem," Hank tells him as though it were common knowledge. "You were traumatized, for fuck's sake; I would be more concerned if you didn't react."

"I don't want to be decommissioned," Connor murmurs, something within him chiding him. He cannot want; androids do not want. ~~Do they?~~ "When that deviant... shot itself, I... it felt like it had happened to me."

He reminisces upon every time he had come close to death. Every time he had foolishly ignored the risks because he knew there would be little consequence for him; what has changed that? Why would shutting down now be more detrimental than it previously would have been?

~~Is he alive? Is that possible?~~

"It scares me," he continues, his voice hushed as though it shames him just to utter those very words. "I know they'll just replace me, but how much of me will be left behind and erased? I don't..."

"You aren't going to be decommissioned, Connor," Hank assures him, glancing at him steadily as they pull into Kamski's driveway. "You're too smart for that."

Connor wants to protest; he wants to tell Hank that he has no way to be sure of that, but he finds himself at a loss for words. Against his own better judgement, he leans over the center console and leans into Hank, burying his face in the lieutenant's jacket.

He expects to be pushed away with an expressive and perhaps vulgar display of shock. Instead, Hank wraps his arm around Connor's shoulders, pulling the android closer to him.

There is something uniquely comforting about Hank's embrace; Connor is unsure how to properly phrase it, but the gesture is enough to soothe him.

With his face still buried in Hank's jacket, Connor says: "I don't want to die." His LED displays a bright, luminous yellow.

"You won't, Connor. You're smart and capable of taking care of yourself," he replies, his hand remaining steady upon Connor's shoulder even once he pulls away from Hank. "Let's go see what Kamski has for us, yeah?"

Connor inhales deeply as he steadies himself, closing his eyes momentarily before he exhales. "Lead the way, lieutenant."

A lot of uncertainty blocks their road forward, but Connor knows statistics. They are the one thing he is both familiar and comfortable with; his entire field of work is dependent upon statistics. They are what he utilizes in deciding a proper course of action. He is also aware of the fact that the odds can be beat, even if it is unlikely for one to do so.

Their future is not set in stone. No outcome is entirely predictable or certain, so Connor prioritizes.

Mission first, feelings later.

Somehow, he makes it.


End file.
